


...as the poets say

by Palebluedot



Category: The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Mythology - Freeform, Pelion Fic, Romance, only good things happen here, this is my favorite thing I've ever written I think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-25
Updated: 2015-01-25
Packaged: 2018-03-09 00:30:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3229397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Palebluedot/pseuds/Palebluedot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Do you know the story of how people came to look as they do now?” </p><p>Patroclus shakes his head. “Will you tell it?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	...as the poets say

Patroclus is breathless, and Achilles is grinning. Their skin is damp and cooling, and the painted stars above could almost be shining, dark though it is. It always seems to end like this, with Achilles curled lightly around Patroclus, smiling brilliantly up at him as he waits for him to come back to himself.

“You look happy,” Patroclus murmurs, and loves him for it.

“I am happy,” Achilles replies sleepily, like he's got a secret, and Patroclus loves him for that, too. “I have reason to be.”

Patroclus is grinning along with him now, cheeks growing hot in spite of himself. He can't help it. It's all still so new – Achilles' weight warm and steady on top of him, Achilles' legs woven together with his, Achilles' hair tousled and spread out over Patroclus' chest like a curled wisp of golden cloud. “Do you, now?”

“You know I do.” There's a hand on his cheek, and Achilles is leaning up to kiss him, soft, unhurried. And then he pulls back, shifts his position, propping himself up on his forearms, now planted carefully on either side of Patroclus' head. He brushes a stray lock of hair off Patroclus' forehead, and his eyes are strikingly soft. “Do you know the story of how people came to look as they do now?”  

Patroclus shakes his head. “Will you tell it?”

He knows the answer.

Achilles seems to sense this, but gives it gladly anyway. “Of course.” He clears his throat theatrically, and begins. “There was a time, in the beginning, when humans looked very different than we do today. We each had four legs, and four arms.” With that, he takes one of Patroclus' hands in his own, and presses the wrist to his lips before continuing.

“We had two heads, as well, and so we each had two necks...” – a kiss to the fresh purple marks blooming at the hollow of his throat – “...two noses...” – a quick nuzzle at the tip of his nose – “...and two mouths.” He traces a fingertip over the seam of Patroclus' lips, and Patroclus kisses it, delighting in the way Achilles sighs before carrying on with the story.

“But the gods, fearing the power we possessed in this form, saw fit to split us....” Here he slowly drags a finger down the center of Patroclus' chest, “...right down the middle, body and soul alike. And so now we are all condemned to live our lives as but one half of a whole, until we can find the piece of our soul that was stolen, and be complete.”

Patroclus is suddenly very aware of the quickening of his heart, and Achilles' hand resting over it. “Will we know them when we find them, I wonder?”

Once again, he does not wonder. He knows. He has always known.

Achilles does not hesitate for a moment before answering, “I found you, didn't I? And I know you.”

Patroclus could not stop the blush or the smile spreading across his face like rosy dawn in the morning sky if he tried, and he does not try. “And I know you.” He tilts his head up just as Achilles angles his down, and their two mouths fall to meet each other as waves fall to the shore, their four arms circling each other and holding, tight.

“And now that we are together, as we are meant to be, not even the gods dare challenge us,” Achilles whispers in a hot rush against his lips. “ _Philtatos_.”

“ _Achilles_ ,” Patroclus breathes back. And then he is lost, to the sweet downward push and drag of Achilles' hips, to the taste of coming home.

 

**Author's Note:**

> The story Achilles tells Patroclus is an actual Greek myth, but I'm almost completely sure it was an idea of Plato's, which means I took a *major* historical liberty here, but oh well, it was too cute to pass up.
> 
> 4/7/17: Well, holy shit - a little over two years have passed, I'm now in college, I recently actually studied Plato's Symposium (the origin of the myth that inspired this story) and this tiny fic somehow has as many kudos as it has words. I'm speechless. I still think about this heartbreaking and all-consuming book, it's so touching that this story still gets some love once in a while. Thank you all! ❤️


End file.
